


callin it quits now (baby i'm a wreck)

by thewestwinged



Series: into the interdimensional portal-verse [3]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Gen, Nightmares, Spider Family, a little bit of not-really-that graphic violence because. you know. weird nightmare stuff, miles is a child that has seen some people die in front of his face, would you look at that . more sunflower lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewestwinged/pseuds/thewestwinged
Summary: crash at my place -(the spideyfam has a movie night and miles has a dream or two)





	callin it quits now (baby i'm a wreck)

Miles wakes up to the sight of five discrete interdimensional portals on the ceiling of his bedroom. 

He curses, jumps, and maybe screams a little bit. Which is fine, because he’s at home for the weekend, and his parents are visiting his grandmother in DC. Still, though, it’s kind of embarrassing. He sees Peni trying not to laugh at his expense. Ham has no such qualms. 

“Man, shut up,” he grumbles. “How many times can the world end before I eat some Cheerios?”

“The world isn’t ending,” Gwen says. “These things just appeared. Again.”

Miles lies back down on his bed, and processes this. “Why is this my life.”

Peter snorts. “Perk of the job, kid.”

They wait in silence, the six of them, for a long, uncomfortable moment. Miles feels a yawn bubble up, from deep inside his chest. He stifles it, and probably ends up looking like he’s swallowed some bees, but whatever, everyone was already staring at him. It’s not a thing.

And it’s not like he hasn’t been able to sleep. It’s more that there’s just so much to  _ do _ , between school and homework and patrols and the volunteer stuff he does on weekends, he barely has time anymore. Those are his reasons, and he’s sticking by them. So what if he’s seen the crumpled, lifeless face of his dimension's Peter Parker in four out of five of his latest dreams? Everyone has nightmares, sometimes. He’s a teenager and he can deal with it.

Perk of the job.

Peni is talking, Miles realizes, with a jolt of embarrassment. “-and so we tried to pull it up on the hover screen, but the file was all old and corrupted,” she’s saying. 

“Jesus,” Peter says. “I’m still not over the fact that you  _ haven’t seen Jurassic Park _ .”

The spider in question pouts. “I’m from the future!”

Ham mumbles something like, “You use that for  _ everything _ .”

Noir raises a black and white hand. “I have also never seen Jurassic Park,” he says.

“Oh, come on,” Gwen says, grinning. “You’re gonna give Peter a stroke.” 

So, as Miles has gathered, the situation is this: There are some very loud people in his bedroom, and two of them have never seen the seminal masterpiece that is Jurassic Park. These aforementioned loud people are also, weirdly, some of his closest friends, a couple of whom are extremely emotionally stunted, all of whom are from different dimensions, and so it is very hard to find opportunities to hang out together. In fact, they’ve never really just… hung out, before. He finds that he really, really wants to do that.

Miles clears his throat. “Why don’t you guys just come over, and we can watch it together?” He suggests.

Peni jumps to her feet, as if this is the invitation she has been waiting for. “I accept!” She says, bounding through the portal into Miles’ room. 

Everyone else stares. Miles raises a challenging eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” Peter says. “You got popcorn?”

 

They settle around his TV, on the couch or the seats on either side of it. Ham settles on the coffee table, and no one has the heart or the guts to comment on it. Miles pulls a couple blankets from his room while Peter makes the popcorn, and eventually, they all settle down. Just close enough for Miles to feel them with his spidey-sense. You know, normal human distance to sit from people while watching a movie.

Miles doesn’t realize just how tired he is until all the lights are turned off, and it’s warm, and everything smells like the movies and this unidentifiable thing he can only categorize as ‘safe’. He tries to keep his eyes open, if just to see Peni and Noir’s reactions, but he’s just… he’s...

He’s standing in the shadow of Kingpin’s collider. There’s a body in front of him, on the cold floor - crumpled, neck bent all wrong, red suit blending in with the blood that spills out from under the mask. He scrambles forward, fingers scraping along his own chest, but he’s not wearing his suit. Just a hoodie and jeans. No Spider-Man, just him, just

There’s a part of him that knows what he’ll find, but it’s like his fingers are attached to someone else’s strings, and he finds himself reaching down, grasping at the bottom of the mask. He pulls up

The face that greets him is not Peter Parker, of blonde hair and promises and his universe. Miles knows as soon as he feels the stubble, but he keeps pulling, revealing tired eyes and greying hair,  _ God, how _

A spider emerges from beneath Peter’s shoulder, and then another, and then another. They’re crawling towards Miles, up his arms and legs, burying themselves into his eyes, and then 

And then he’s standing on a tiny platform in the middle of a storm, metal and bright colors, but, but he destroyed the collider, he remembers, him and the other spiders? A hand on his shoulder, slipping off. He spins around

Gwen collapses in front of him, face so broken she’s barely recognizable. The rest of his friends - his - they’re strewn about, flying past him, colliding against the building parts and roads and cars that are born from the collider, and none of them are getting up. None of them are getting up

“Miles,” Gwen says. More of a choked whisper. She reaches up with a trembling hand. “Oh, Miles, why didn’t you save us?"

There’s blood on his face and on his hands, too, it’s everywhere, he’s  _ drowning _ in it-

Miles shoots up like a stomp rocket, gasping in a quick, uneven breath of air. And then he realizes just where he is, and freezes, settling back onto the couch as inconspicuous as possible. There isn’t enough air in his lungs, still, but he can’t breathe too loud, or else everyone will know something’s wrong. The backs of his ears are tingling like crazy, and he can’t tell if it’s his spidey senses or just the plain old anxiety, but at this point, does it matter? They must already know something’s wrong, they know there’s something  _ wrong  _ with him. 

His eyes dart around the room, little rabbits. Everyone is looking carefully at the rolling credits of Jurassic Park. 

“Wanna put on the next one?” Peni asks the room, quiet. Like if she speaks too loud, something will tear.

There appears to be a consensus in affirmation. Miles is barely listening. All of his energy is going into not hyperventilating. He stays very, very still. 

So still that he doesn’t even jump when Peni slides closer to him, pressing up against his side. 

“Can I share your blanket?” She whispers. “It’s a little cold.”

Miles takes a moment to open his airways. He needs those to talk. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, lifting his arm up, moving to hand the blanket over. “All yours.”

“Cool,” Peni says. Instead of taking the blanket, she cuddles up closer to his side, tugs her half of the blanket down around her chest. “Thanks, Miles,” she says, cheerful.

It  _ should _ be a little weird. Like most other spontaneous, prolonged forms of physical contact from people he doesn’t know all that well, it should be a little bit awkward and kind of uncomfortable. But - Miles actually finds a little bit of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. He settles his arm back down around Peni, and she sighs, happy, pressing her cheek to the side of his chest.

“Got room under there for one more?” Peter asks, from Miles’ other side. He nudges his arm. 

“I think so,” Miles finds himself saying. And then there’s a Peter pressed up against him, a warm, heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders. The blanket doesn’t fit all the way around Peter, but that doesn’t seem to be the point, anymore. Miles could acknowledge it, but then he might lose Peni’s grounding weight against his side, the brush of Peter’s stubble on the edge of his forehead. And he doesn’t  _ want _ to lose this. It’s… for lack of a better word, it’s  _ good _ , the way that hot chocolate on a cold day and rereading good books are good. 

Careful, like pulling Jenga blocks, Miles rests his head on Peter’s shoulder. He’s soft, Miles realizes. Comfy. Peni makes a happy little noise against his side, fingers bunching in the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

_ Is this what cuddling is? _ Miles wonders, and then decides not to dwell on it. 

Gwen has moved to sit on the floor in front of the couch, resting her back against Miles’ legs. Gentle, though - not trapping him anywhere, just there. Ham settles on the back of the couch, sort of wedged between Miles’ shoulder and the top of Peni’s head. Noir returns with a fresh bowl of popcorn Miles finds himself suddenly starving for, and collapses next to Gwen on the carpet. 

The opening scene of Jurassic Park II starts to play. Peni steals a handful of popcorn from the bowl that has made its way into his lap. Peter rests his chin on the side of Miles’ head. He can feel Gwen’s hair and Noir’s jacket, brushing against his shins. Ham snores against his shoulder. 

“You aren’t alone,” Peter reminds him, voice soft. 

“I know,” Miles says. It’s meant to be a whisper, but with all of their enhanced spidey-senses, he’s sure everyone heard. He finds that he actually doesn’t mind. 

It’s quiet, except for whatever’s playing on screen. Miles takes a long breath. He settles into the couch, into the arms of his family. 

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with the miles angst  
> IM REALLY SORRY  
> also next up is 100000% miles' parents meeting the spideyfam on account of Imagine The Comedic Potential!!  
> check me out on tumboler @ foxglovefemme


End file.
